


The Ins and Outs

by gehddit



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gehddit/pseuds/gehddit
Summary: Based on a scene described in Speranza's "What We Asked For From Each Other"linked here https://archiveofourown.org/works/1803766In her story, Steve is explaining to Tony how he and Bucky first got together, how Bucky let Steve watch him with a girl.  The Ins and Outs is my interpretation of how that would have gone.Though this story can stand alone, no one should ever turn down an excuse to read one of Speranza's works :)





	The Ins and Outs

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What We Asked For From Each Other](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1803766) by [Speranza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speranza/pseuds/Speranza). 

With every turn they took, the dusted champagne halls became narrower and narrower. A maze leading to a dead end. Or for him at least. Steve couldn’t help thinking this place was built for exactly what it was they were about to do. That if Bucky hadn’t already told him where they were going, he might have guessed. 

This last left put them in a dark alcove, housing a faded red door with a small plack that, in better days, probably had the apartment number painted on; back in the years when this building was bustling and new. He was trying to figure out how they'd gotten here, how he had let Bucky talk him into this, and his throat was closing, his heart racing.

“Wait,” Steve grabbed at Bucky’s sleeve, hand shaking, eyes on the door. “I can’t. Buck, I don’t--”

“You got nothing to worry about. Hey, look at me.” Bucky angled the arm in Steve’s hold so he could curl a hand around Steve’s thin elbow, turning them face to face. “It’s all gonna be fine. It’s easy, and it doesn’t have to last. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“Buck, you’re not--” He wasn’t  _ listening _ . Steve broke away from him, trying to explain. Wishing he didn’t have to. “It isn’t just that I don’t  _ want _ \--” He paused, trying to find the words. 

“I don’t know… I don’t know how it’s all supposed to…” And thank god he doesn’t have to go any further than that, understanding dawning in Bucky’s widening eyes, lips parting around his silent realization.  _ Oh _ . 

Now he has it.

“Okay,”And Bucky had that face on, that face he makes when an engine’s acting up, or there’s one too many guys on the other side of a fight. “Alright pal, okay, not a worry.” He turned back to the door, hand raised. “Give me a minute." The light rap of Bucky’s knuckles against the peeling wood had Steve flinching, and he grabbed again at Bucky's arm.

"Don't!" But Bucky just gave him a hard look.

"Would you  _ give me a minute _ ?" And Steve could translate that well enough;  _ when have I ever steered you wrong? _ Which-- how was he supposed to argue with that? 

The door opened on a small girl with thin brown hair down to her elbows. She was pretty in that easy kind of way that let you look at her for a good long while. Her pink dress had a button missing, and maybe she was too thin, but Steve knew better than most that hungry was just how you woke up these days.

"Hey, Molly. This is Steve." Bucky leaned to the side, giving her a good view of him, and the smile she put on was a little worn too. Without looking back at him, or even waiting for a response, Bucky said, “Give us a sec, okay?” And stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Steve jammed his hands in his pockets, fiddling with the seams. Feeling like he was waiting for Sister Mary Grace to call him into her office, tell him he was falling behind again. That he needed to catch up. Always two steps behind on his too small, two left feet. But whatever it was Bucky wanted to talk about, it didn’t take long. He was already coming back in the hall, clapping his hands over Steve’s shoulders. He gave them a firm squeeze.

"Got it all worked out,” his grip tightened. “I’m gonna go first.” Steve jerked back, wide eyed, sure he had misunderstood, that he couldn’t possibly mean-- but Bucky just kept nodding, rubbing his thumbs over the sharp edges of Steve’s collar bone. “Yeah, I’ll go and you can see what’s what. The in’s and out’s of it,” and then it’s like his words caught up with him, and he smirked, small and entirely self-indulgent. And now Steve just wanted to punch him, because really it wasn’t funny at all, and Molly was right inside, and that’s not how you talked about--well... A queasy smile was working its way into the corner of his mouth. Because what the hell did he know. Because it didn’t have to be  _ so _ serious. Not when Bucky’s always finding the joke in all of it. 

“Alright." He hardly heard the word himself, feeling it stuck in his throat. Bucky ducked down, trying to catch his eye.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah,” and Steve squared his shoulders, because if this was something they were going to do, then he was damn well going to show up for it, so he looked at Bucky straight, and said,“Yes." His voice firm. Bucky gave him one solid slap on the back before tapping out a quick warning knock for Molly, and guiding Steve into the apartment, with a light hand on the small of his back.

“Here Steve,” Molly's voice was surprisingly cheerful, something about the way she looked at him having gentled. She patted the arm of a faded corduroy chair, nicotine tinted doilies covering a rip on the back. “I’ve fixed up a seat for you, if you like.” It was angled towards the bed, Steve spotting the grooves in the rug a good two feet away from where it now sat. Nodding his thanks, he tried to get comfortable, even as the idea itself made him nearly laugh out loud.

Molly looked like she waiting for him to get settled, standing patiently by the corner of the bed, but then Bucky was moving toward her. He was slow about it. Careful. His arms reached out, hands skating tenderly up her neck, thumbs brushing up over her cheeks. Leaning in, his lips hovered over hers, barely space for air between them, and Steve felt his breath catch. But he didn't close the distance, instead, dragging his lips across her hairline, ghosting his breath over her ear. It was so much softer than Steve had ever pictured, so much kinder. The way they talked about it in church-- nothing at all like-- Bucky ran his finger tips up the flat plane of her stomach, skimming over her breasts, to lightly flick open the buttons of her dress. This was no sin. Not the way Bucky did it.

She shivered as he slipped the fabric from her shoulders, and Bucky must have seen it. Felt it even, probably; the way he rubbed his hands over her arms, how he pulled her in close. Steve knew how warm it must be pressed to his chest like that. Had felt it on countless train rides; Bucky tight at his back, radiating heat. Winter walks home in the dark, Steve tucked under his arm. He could barely get warm without it anymore, would suck the heat up into his bones. Could feel it there now.

Bucky had his arms tight around her, lowering her back onto the bed, her dress left pooled on the floor. His shirt tails dragged across the skin of her thighs, raising the hairs on Steve’s arms as Bucky slowly kissed his way up her body, grazing his teeth over the increasingly rapid rise and fall of her ribs. He bit at her softly, up over her breasts, licking his way across the fragile pink of her nipple. Steve saw the swirl of his tongue, the way he kept adding pressure just to take it away, before finally biting there too. This had her up on her elbows, must’ve stirred her up something fierce, the way she was tearing at Bucky’s shirt, shucking his pants down off his legs, stripping him down completely.

None of Bucky’s body was new to Steve. His sun browned skin, always looking like he’d just strolled off the boardwalk. Tightly packed muscle built up from six days a week hauling crates down at the Gowanus Warehouse. There was no avoiding it really. Locker rooms when they were kids, skirting around each other for space in the showers. Their apartment, scrambling to get ready for work in the early morning light, or spread out on the cool wood floor in the summer heat. And Bucky’d never seemed to think anything of it if maybe Steve looked just a little too long, or sat just a little too close. There was never much else to look at, and anyway, space wasn’t a luxury either of them had ever been able to afford. So it wasn’t anything new, Bucky’s body. But he hadn’t ever-- it was never-- nothing like this. 

There was such purpose to it. Every movement-- sitting back on his calves, his cock speared forward, jutting out from his body, red and glistening. Skimming his hands up the inside of her thighs; every motion, building to something. His fingers stroked over her entrance, thumb circling on a concentrated point. Molly’s hips bucked forward on a gasp, choking out a soft, but urgent, “ _ Yes! _ ” And her legs folded around Bucky’s waist, dragging him in closer. And he  _ went. _ Steve’s never seen anyone move Bucky so easily. Never seen him comply like that. But she asked and he listened, running the gleaming head of his cock over her opening, wetting it with her slick, and easing himself, ever so gradually, inside of her.

He felt himself hunching forward, he couldn’t help it, like his body belonged to somebody else. An aching, guttural sound ripped through the room, and it took Steve a moment to realize it was him. That he was even capable of making a sound like that.

_ “Christ.” _ Bucky had whipped his head around, for the first time looking in his direction, even as his eyes stayed closed. Finding him through the dark of his eyes sealed shut. And it hit Steve then, in that way that they had with each other, that Bucky was doing this-- all of it-- for him. That this whole time, Bucky had choreographed his movements around what Steve could see, staging them to give him the best vantage point. That in Bucky’s mind, no part of this was for himself at all. And Steve  _ had _ been watching. Studying, more like. Memorizing.

It was jealousy-- a part of it-- trapping his eyes, wrenching through his gut. Whitening his knuckles over the arms of his chair. Bucky’s body-- blanketing the woman beneath him, sure and steady-- there was no weakness in him. Every line and angle simultaneously a weapon and a barricade. For every bit of Steve that was sick and small, Bucky was strong and beautiful. 

And that flavor of envy would be fine on its own. No different than any man in the face of a living ideal. If that was all it was. But watching Bucky open his mouth over her throat, licking at the sweat sheened skin there, what Steve wasn’t quite ready for was everything underneath. Realizing his jealousy was just what bubbled up to the surface; airy, insubstantial. Seafoam forcing itself first into view. Because it didn’t carry any weight. Roiling beneath was everything else. Everything hot and dense, thickly churning through the center of him, pumping into his blood, stopping up his lungs. 

That her rounded breasts, firm-- beautiful, no doubt they got him good and riled-- were still only the surface Bucky’s stubble was scratching over, in Steve’s mind. They couldn’t hold his focus. Not like the corded muscles arching along Bucky’s back with every thrust. He was trying his best to shift his attention to her soft curves, but his eyes kept snagging on Bucky’s powerful thighs pushing his hips forward. Deeper every time. And now it wasn’t her narrow waist he was looking at, not anymore, but Bucky’s enormous hands dragging over her skin. And Steve could feel it. Felt it like he was the one on his back, underneath him. Like he was the one clawing his hands over Bucky’s broad, tan shoulders. Like it was his legs wrapped around Bucky’s flexing back.

Steve’s breath was dragging through his lungs, ragged. There wasn’t enough air in the room, and he’d be afraid he was having an asthma attack, except maybe it would be better for everybody if he just up and died right here. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to think about how he kept waiting for Bucky to kiss her. How Steve was torn between an almost visciouse satisfaction that that was one part of Bucky she hadn’t gotten, and utter longing to see what Bucky’s lips looked like, plush and smooth against someone else’s. That maybe he might feel that too. Maybe Bucky might slip his tongue inside; warm, wet-- and now any control Steve may have had was gone. His hand flew to his cock, barely keeping himself from coming, the shout pulled from him, “Shit, _ Bucky!” _

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, finally looking at him, straight at him, at the hard length clutched in his hand, and Bucky was heaving forward, hips stuttering, mouth slamming shut on a swear. 

He was out of his chair and through the door before he could even think, slamming it shut on Bucky’s panicked,  _ “Steve!” _

The alcove was as quiet as when they came in, Steve sinking down against the wall, head tucked into his knees, trying his damndest to will away his erection. From behind the door, he heard the frantic clanking of metal- Bucky putting his belt back on-- and wondered how far he could get in his current state if he bolted. Ran before Bucky even had a chance to get his shoes on.

But Bucky, ever the mind reader, was opening the door, and Steve nearly laughed when he saw Bucky’s bare feet. It was almost spooky sometimes.

Bucky’s knees came into view, touching down on the floor. Close, but not too close. Careful in a way they never were with each other. 

“Now why can’t you ever run like that when it counts, huh? Keep that up, maybe you won’t come home so bloody all the time.” He inched closer. “Going so fast I thought maybe you had my wallet.” 

Steve snorted, “Looks like there’s simpler ways to make a buck around here.” He tilted his face up, letting Bucky see him.  _ I’m okay _ . We’re _ okay. _

“Wasn’t  _ so _ bad, was it?” There was something anxious in the way he asked, too quiet. Guilty even. But Steve wasn’t going to have that.

“No it--” he ran a hand down over his mouth, feeling himself gear up for something. Something, he was scared he knew exactly what “--bad isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe it.”

“Alright, well then come on, help me out here Steve,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “it wasn’t bad, so what was it?"

“I don’t even know how I’d…” He looked up at Bucky, made sure he was really looking, eyes hard, “it was beautiful, Buck. It was perfect.” And he should’ve known there’d be no fighting this. He’d never had any fight when it came to Bucky. It always turned into something else, and Steve couldn’t believe he had taken this long to see just what that was.

“Then what’re we doing out here?” Levering himself onto one knee, Bucky offered Steve his hand. “Come on, you dope, lets--” but Steve was shaking his head, taking Bucky’s hand tight in his. He wasn’t moving.

“ _ Listen _ . Bucky I need you to listen to me.” It must’ve been something in Steve’s tone. Or maybe the way he was starting to let everything show; open himself up, lay himself out. But Bucky went quiet, hardly even breathing, his eyes trained on Steve. “It was perfect, okay? It was more than that. More than I could have even thought.” He pulled Bucky closer, drawing him in, down to his level. “But I don’t want to go back in there. Do you see?” He was baring it all now, turning himself inside out. “There’s nothing in there for me. What I want, everything I want, it’s all out here.”

For all that Bucky was cool and quiet, he was breathing faster now, his other hand flitting over Steve's knee, fluctuating between firm and gentle, as he leaned ever so slightly into his space, eyeing Steve uncertainly. Like he was waiting to be pushed away. Like he was waiting for Steve to take it all back. To be told he had misunderstood. But Steve wasn’t  _ going _ to be misunderstood. Not in this. Sliding his hands up Bucky’s hastily buttoned shirt, he twisted his fingers in the soft, blue cotton, gently bringing Bucky closer, nodding his encouragement.  _ That’s right, Buck, that’s it. Come on, please,  _ please. But Bucky stilled, his hands coming up to wrap around Steve’s wrists.

“This is really what you want?” Bucky was so close now, Steve could feel his breath across his lips, but the  _ look  _ on his face-- like a dog waiting to be whipped. Afraid. Well talking had never really been their way anyway; he closed the distance, inexpert and awkward, but at least-- he thought-- sincere as hell. That had him,  _ finally _ . It was all over for Bucky now, “Jesus,  _ fuck.” _ And he was shoving Steve’s knees apart, pushing his way closer, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair. 

“Want this, want  _ you _ . Always have.” Steve’s hands were everywhere, grabbing at everything he could reach. “Don’t want to wait anymore, Buck,” fumbling in a mess of fabric, he finally found what he was looking for, fingers wrapping around Bucky’s hardening cock. Bucky whimpered, a wounded animal, jerking his hips forward, before reluctantly pulling back.

“You’ll get it. Anything you want Steve, I’ll give you anything you want.” But he was pushing up, away from him. Steve let out a whine in protest-- didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed-- he grabbed at Bucky’s arms, putting all of his weight into bringing him back down.

Bucky groaned, sinking immediately back to his knees, clumsily tipping his forehead to rest against Steve’s, bumping his nose against Steve’s cheek. “I know, I know. Me too, pal, _ really _ . But we can’t  _ do this _ here.” Disregarding this completely, Steve jerked his hips up, trying for any friction he could get, and the sound it dragged from Bucky could only be described as a sob. “Please Steve, come on. Get up.” 

But Steve wasn’t having it, not when it’s already taken them this long. Already wasted so much time. He reached for Bucky’s dick again, feeling the long line of it beneath his heavy wool trousers, shaping his fingers around it the best he could. He could feel the head straining against Bucky’s fly, and roughly traced his index and middle finger around it, his thumb stroking down the shaft. Just like that, Bucky went entirely slack, collapsing onto Steve’s shoulder, his breath ragged, and it was as close to giving in as Bucky ever got. Emboldened, Steve wrenched at Bucky’s button and fly, until he finally felt the warmth of Bucky’s bare length in his palm.

It was heavy, and hot-- so much hotter than the rest of him-- Steve slid his fingers through slick collecting at the base, precum drooling from the tip. His mouth watered, tongue flicking out over his lips. He wanted to taste it, it was all he could think about, but there wasn’t space, he didn’t have the angle, and so he brushed his thumb over the pooling head instead, thinking of what he had always done to himself.

Bucky’s hips jarred upwards, a small sound croaking from his throat, and now he was up, licking his way up the side of Steve’s neck, mouthing over his jaw, his cheek, until he found Steve’s lips. And somehow, even with Bucky’s dick in his hand,  _ this  _ is what he’d been waiting for; Bucky working his mouth open, the slick of his tongue, gentle at first, before pushing harder, rougher. Steve was gasping, didn’t even realize Bucky was fumbling open the clasp of his pants until he felt the firm tug on his cock. Heat shot up his spine, an electric pull that sang through every nerve in his body.

Both of them moaned, fists tight around one another, working to match each other’s rhythm. But it wasn’t enough somehow-- it wasn’t-- Steve needed-- clutching at Bucky’s collar with his free hand, Steve slid himself the rest of the way to the floor, rolling onto his back, tugging Bucky down with him the whole way. Not that he needed to, Bucky wouldn’t let more than six inches between them at a time; he was over Steve in a second, forearm braced above Steve’s head. Still Steve needed, “ _ More.  _ Bucky  _ please _ I need- _ -” _ What though, he wasn’t sure he knew, but that wasn’t something he’d ever had to worry about. Not with Buck. So if more was what Steve wanted-- Bucky dropped from the cage he’d formed around Steve’s body, giving Steve all his weight. And god, the  _ weight _ of him. So much, crushing him, and Steve pushed his hips into it. Into Bucky’s hand, the hard plane of his stomach. And Bucky was meeting him thrust for thrust, half out of his mind with it.

“Steve, god, it’s so good. So perfect,” he was nuzzling against Steve’s cheek, dragging over the planes of his face, “you’re so perfect-- fucking--  _ ah! _ ” Bucky choked off on a gasp, as Steve managed to get his legs around Bucky’s waist, squeezing at Bucky’s hips, bringing them somehow closer together. No space for anything but this. Bucky’s mouth was hanging open, eyes roaming over Steve’s face, still with that shade of disbelief. And how can he  _ still _ \-- in the middle of all this-- so Steve yanked him down, crushing their lips together, tipping his head back, urging Bucky to take control of the kiss, to do that thing with his tongue--

“ _ Mmm, ah _ ,” he had to pull back, lips breaking apart with a pop, he couldn’t hold back anymore, wasn’t going to-- “Shit, Buck, I’m gonna--” And his legs tightened their hold around Bucky, hips spasming, flexing through the roaring in his ears, the sparks searing behind his eyes. He felt more than heard Bucky’s cry. Felt Bucky pressing into him, holding their hips together as he rabbited forward, four thrusts, six, and like someone had cut his strings, he went slack, muscles relaxing, heavy on Steve. They lay together for a moment, panting in one another’s arms, Bucky burying his face in Steve’s neck. He was almost sure he felt something like a smile there.

“You think she heard us?” Steve couldn’t quite suppress a smirk, and Bucky was pulling back, shaking his head, exasperation tugging his lips into a disbelieving smile;  _ you little shit _ .

“With all the racket  _ you _ were making? I’m putting money down the whole damn complex heard us.” He sat up, pulling Steve with him, they settled back on opposite walls, and Steve was grateful Bucky wasn’t expecting him to get up quite yet. His limbs felt like wet paper, like he was moving through molasses.

“The racket _ I _ was making? You sounded plenty pleased yourself.” He kicked out his foot, grinning when he actually managed to connect with Bucky’s boot. Slowly but surely, control was coming back to him.

“Not me, I’m a man of discretion.” Rolling his head forward, Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, just daring Steve to challenge him on it. Steve felt his pulse kick up a notch.

“Oh yeah?” He leveraged himself onto his knees, crawling into the V of Bucky’s spread thighs. All of his hesitation, his fear, had been burned out of him, leaving him loose; free to lick at the shell of Bucky’s ear, teeth nipping just under his jaw. Bucky blew out a hard breath through his nose, leaning back to give Steve more access. “Then what’re you doing running around with the likes of me?”

“Well,” he palmed the small of Steve’s back, pushing till they were flush together, and letting loose a pleased hum, “recently I’ve been noticing some perks.”

Steve’s grin grew a wicked edge, and he lifted his leg up, swinging it over Bucky’s so that he was settled firmly in his lap, Bucky immediately cupping his waist, tugging them more tightly together. Steve took a gentle hold of his face, brushing his thumbs under Bucky’s eyes. “This is gonna be something we do now, alright?” It was more command than question, and he had Bucky’s full attention, looking up at Steve with a singular focus, eyes wide. Awestruck. “ _ Alright _ ?” Bucky nodded then, fingers twitching against Steve’s hips, tightening his grip. “You and me,” Steve said, sliding his fingers into Bucky’s thick hair, watching with his own kind of awe as Bucky’s eyes slipped shut, pushing his head up into Steve’s hand, “this is who we are to each other now.” 

“Anything,” Bucky whispered. “Anything you want.”


End file.
